


A Thing With Feathers

by MelayneSeahawk



Series: Good Omens Kink Meme [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Book Elements, Crowley Is The Original Goth, Good Omens Kink Meme, M/M, Post-Canon, Show Elements, Wing Grooming, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 07:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelayneSeahawk/pseuds/MelayneSeahawk
Summary: Aziraphale didn't know what to expect when he arrived at Crowley's flat, after a hurried phone call when the demon had said he was in urgent need of help. He didn't sound too upset, though, so Aziraphale hoped that it was something silly like having run out of wine, rather than something serious like an attack from Heaven or Hell. Even so, Aziraphale miracled himself directly into Crowley's living room, hoping he would be ready for whatever he encountered.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Kink Meme [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535939
Comments: 12
Kudos: 256
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme





	A Thing With Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [Good Omens Kink Meme](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/) on dreamwidth, prompt: [Aziraphale finds out that Crowley has been dyeing his wings black since the beginning](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/616.html?thread=1141864#cmt1141864)
> 
> unbetaed, unBrit-picked

Aziraphale didn't know what to expect when he arrived at Crowley's flat, after a hurried phone call when the demon had said he was in urgent need of help. He didn't sound too upset, though, so Aziraphale hoped that it was something silly like having run out of wine, rather than something serious like an attack from Heaven or Hell. Even so, Aziraphale miracled himself directly into Crowley's living room, hoping he would be ready for whatever he encountered.

"In here, angel!" Crowley called, and Aziraphale followed his voice down the hall to Crowley's palatial bathroom. The demon was sitting in the massive bathtub, bare to the waist, wings out behind him. "Good, I need a hand."

"What on Earth?" Aziraphale tried to understand what he was seeing. The bathtub was full of black feathers, and the feathers of Crowley's wings were matted with some dark, viscous liquid, except for those closest to Crowley's spine, which were a brilliant white. "What happened to you?"

"Eh?" Crowley said, fiddling with the primaries on one wing. "Oh! Just molting. Tried doing a touch-up, but I couldn't reach."

Aziraphale watched, mouth agape, as Crowley picked up a bottle from the edge of the tub, squirted more of the dark liquid into his rubber-gloved hands, and started rubbing the solution into his wings. "But what are you doing? And why are your feathers white?"

"They always were," Crowley said, looking at Aziraphale with mild surprise. "You didn't know?"

"I thought your wings had blackened when you fell," Aziraphale said, and felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment. "I thought it must have been upsetting for you, so I never said anything."

Crowley stared at him for a moment, then tossed his head back with a laugh. It went on far too long, and Aziraphale was feeling a little put out by the time he stopped, wiping his eyes with one clean wrist. "No, angel, nothing like that," he said, still chuckling. "I thought the black wings would be more impressive when I revealed them to humans. Fits the aesthetic. I've been dyeing them for millennia."

Aziraphale's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "Only you, my dear."

"Anyway," Crowley said with emphasis. "I used to just put them into this waterfall of infernal ash, but without access to Hell, I figured I'd try doing it the human way. But I can't reach," he added, expression sheepish.

Aziraphale smiled fondly, and pressed a soft kiss to Crowley's forehead. "How can I help?"

Crowley tipped his head up to catch Aziraphale's lips with his own. "Thanks, angel," he said, with that soft smile Aziraphale cherished because it graced Crowley's face so rarely. "Grab a pair of gloves from the box on the sink. You might want to take off your jacket and roll up your sleeves."

Aziraphale did as he was bid, leaving the room just long enough to hang his jacket in Crowley's empty closet. He slid on the rubber gloves -- black, naturally -- and returned to the side of the tub, seating himself on its edge. "Now what?"

Crowley squeezed a healthy dollop of the dye into Aziraphale's hands. "Now just massage this in," he said. "Make sure you really get it in there, don't want any white splotches left behind."

"Vain creature," Aziraphale said, and Crowley grinned. He started with the edges where Crowley had stopped, gently rubbing the dye into Crowley's scapulars, removing the occasional loose feather left over from the molt. Crowley groaned and dropped his head forward, and Aziraphale stopped in surprise. "Everything alright?"

"I'd just forgotten how good it felt to have someone else groom your wings," Crowley said, leaning forward and flexing his wings to give Aziraphale better access.

Aziraphale, who had never been popular enough with the other angels to have someone else offer to groom him, frowned. "Demons don't help each other?"

"Would  _ you _ trust a demon behind you?" Crowley asked, and Aziraphale had to admit he had a point. "We can do yours after, if you'd like."

"That sounds lovely," Aziraphale said with a small shiver, already able to imagine what it would feel like to have Crowley's slim, clever fingers buried in his feathers.

They continued after that in silence, Aziraphale shifting Crowley's wings as needed to make sure every inch was properly coated. When he was done, they discarded their gloves and the dye bottle. "And now, we wait." Crowley said, setting a timer on his phone. "However will we keep ourselves occupied?"

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the Emily Dickinson poem "'Hope' is the thing with feathers", the full text of which can be found [here](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42889/hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers-314)
> 
> [reblog link](https://melayneseahawk.tumblr.com/post/188822819624/a-thing-with-feathers-melayneseahawk-good)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://melayneseahawk.tumblr.com/)!


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